In 70 Years
by msulli16
Summary: Steve wakes up 70-something years after his ship crashes into icy waters. He immediately sets off to find out what has become of what he left behind and is shocked at what he finds. He begins his journey to find Peggy, meeting Tony stark and several of the other Avengers in the process. The other half of the story is Peggy's... we find out how her life has been without Steve.
1. Awake

It was cold. Steve had never been this cold back in the states, or even when he was stationed over in Germany. As he sat up, he realized that he had no clue what was going brushed snow, shrapnel, and pieces of glass off of his once bright uniform. Now, the colors are less bold, dulled by age and stained with blood. Steve tried to stand up out of what seemed to him like a pilot's seat, but his leg was trapped under a giant piece of steel covered in dials. He lifted it up as though it was a child's toy, although it would've taken two regular men to lift it. He looked around him, but he was clueless as to what he was looking for; he couldn't remember what had happened. He took his first step forward and crumpled to the ground. He could feel a fresh puddle of blood beginning to stain his suit just below his knee. As he hit the floor, his left hand slammed down onto something small, round, and made of glass. He picked up the golden compass and opened it. Behind a layer of shattered glass, Peggy's chestnut eyes stared back at him.

* * *

><p>One month. Thirty days. Seven hundred and twenty hours. It felt like a year. Even though she was still hoping that he'd show up one day, she knew he wouldn't. He'd crashed in icy water and none of the wreckage had ever been found. It was a "lost cause..." or so she was told by everyone involved. She picked up another beer and told herself that she would forget about him today. She would pull herself away from the suffocating grip of the pain of Steve's death that consumed her for just one night. Raising her bottle to the sky, she said, "here's to you, Rodgers. I hope you found your partner up there."<p>

* * *

><p>He tucked the compass safely in his belt as he made a second attempt at standing. He could feel the blood pulsing in his leg as he attempted to maneuver himself out of the wreckage. Clumsy, tired, and confused, he stumbled around until he was standing a few feet away from the piles of shredded metal. He wrinkled his nose, shading his eyes from the powerful gusts of wind blowing snow into his face. He turned around a few times, trying to make sense of what was going on. <em>Where am... I thought... This doesn't make any sense... I shouldn't... Am I dead? I should be dead.<em> His mind was racing as he tried to figure out why... why he isn't dead, why the ship looks so old and rusted... nothing made sense to him anymore. Not knowing what to do, Steve just started walking. He didn't know what he was walking into, or even what he was walking away from, but he had no other choice.


	2. Moving Along

Steve walked. And walked. And walked. It was slow, one foot bearing more weight than the other, one hand held up to shield his face from the cold wind, but eventually he made it to a small gas station. He shuffled past a car, gawking at its sleek design. It was so small and angular... what'd happened to the large round curves of the cars he was used to? Looking at the car, he hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around himself and limping quickly into the warmth of the station. He looked around, overwhelmed by the bright colors and unfamiliar items surrounding him. He quickly spotted the restrooms and hobbled towards the men's room. He went inside and locked the door behind him. Putting his hands on his head, he slid down the wall, stopping just before he touched the filthy floor.

_What in the absolute hell is going on? I don't- How did I- This isn't right. None of this is right. _

He began to feel the heat of tears in his cheeks, but pushed them back. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous in his dirty, bloody suit. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed in who knows how long, and he was sweaty from walking so far. He stripped off his uniform to get a better look at himself. Nothing too bad, except for the nasty gash in his leg. Mostly just some shallow cuts and bruises. After he washed off his face, he put his uniform back on and walked back into the store.

Bandages for his leg. Water. A box of Luna Bars. A t-shirt that said "I Love My Pug!" Steve walked up to the empty counter with just the things he'd need for a little while.

"Hello? Is someone- Oh. Yes. Hello, sir," he said, peering behind the desk. Laying sprawled out across three folding chairs was a very annoyed looking employee. He stood up, rubbing his eyes.

Without a word, he rung up Steve's items. "Will this be all?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," Steve responded, smiling. He began to reach into his belt to grab some money when he realized that he didn't have any. Half of the belt attached to the uniform was shredded somewhere in the wreckage of the ship. "Sir, I'm sorry, I don't think I have any money with me."

"Alright. Sorry, bud," he said, beginning to sit down again.

"Look, sir, I've had a rough night. I just need a couple of things... please."

"Well, _sir_," the employee said mockingly, "that's just not my problem. What'd you do, get into a bar fight or some shit? That's on you, bud. Sorry, but there ain't nothin' I can do."

Steve nodded and started to walk away, but suddenly stopped and turned back to the employee. "Do you have the date?"

"January 5th."

"January 5th..." Steve prompted the employee for more.

"January 5th, 2011. What, you been living under a rock?" he responded.

"Something like that..." Steve mumbled, stepping out of the station.

* * *

><p>1946<p>

Peggy stumbled home, a man hooked around her arm. She arrived at her apartment and closed the door behind her. Giggling, she turned to her partner and pushed him up against the wall. She reached up and put her hands on his face as she kissed him, pushing her body against his. She pulled away for a second, but only to jump up and wrap her legs around his hips. Kissing his jawline and running her hands through his hair, he carried her into the bedroom, set her down on the bed, and crawled in with her.

She began to unbutton her blouse, moving her body against his.

"No. I can't- Peggy. Peggy, stop. Stop. I can't-I can't do this again," he says, grabbing her hand.

"No, it's fine, come on. It's okay. Please... please," her voice broke on the last word, but she continued to kiss a line from his mouth down to his collarbone.

"No. Stop. It's only been a year-I can't do that to him. Or to you. I can't. I'm sorry, Peggy. You understand, don't you?," he responded quietly. He didn't-he couldn't- look at her.

Peggy responded coldly,"Right. Yes. Of course. How silly of me. Well, Agent Dugan, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve's former comrade-in-arms, Timothy Dugan, nodded, stood, and stepped out of the room. Peggy waited for the sound of the apartment door closing before she stood up and stepped closer to the nightstand next to her bed. She unlocked the first drawer and pulled out Steve's folder. Sitting back down on the bed, she wrapped the papers in her arms. Silently, her shoulders began to shake as tears rolled down her cheeks. One sob escaped her mouth, and her shaking hand reached up to cover it.

Outside, Timothy was sitting on the ground, head in his hands, doing the same thing.


End file.
